your silhouette over me
by affability
Summary: They just fade out when you take a breath. Lucas/Maya.


**a/n:** Because I loved _Boy Meets World_ as well as Cory and Topanga and when I found out about this show I went on a full-fledged marathon and hell, these two became like my new otp. I do get that he's sort of supposed to be the Topanga of the show, I don't know why; I just see him and Maya working out a whole lot better. Maybe it's because I find them so much more interesting (I am also not ashamed to admit they remind me a whole lot of Sam and Freddie). Anyway, now isn't necessarily the best time to hook these two up anyway, I'd prefer a lot more character development _first_ but I still tried my hand writing this. Lyrics and description from _Tenerife Sea_ by Ed Sheeran, another brilliant song that reminds me of these two. Timeline goes from now to high school.

. . .

She's got daddy issues written _all_ over her and sometimes she wonders if anyone notices.

He does.

_&._

Sometimes, she likes to think that she hates Riley (deep, _deep_ down).

And maybe it started a long time ago, because Riley is the one with the good grades and the perfect parents (she can still remember the first time she saw the way Mr. Matthews looks at his wife and how it caused a feeling akin to her heart physically breaking in half when she realizes that she's never seen or had that in her life, _ever_). And the fact that she complains way more about her dad than she should, mostly to Maya (and she just nods and shakes her head when she's supposed to, biting her tongue to stop the spiteful words from spilling out). Or, maybe it's because she's the one with the long dark eyelashes and flowing brown hair and the long, long string of admirers. But, most of all, it's probably because she's filled with all this _hope_ and naivety and her pervasive untainted smile is a grim reminder of everything she could have been if she wasn't forced to grow up so fast and her overwhelming desire to _fix_ everything and everyone (and sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders if Riley's only friends with her because it's part of an intricate, long-established plan to fix every broken girl in New York, starting from the bottom).

But really, it starts the day Lucas Friar asks Riley Matthews out on a date, whereby Maya Hart goes home, throws a softball at her ceiling before promptly slamming and locking her door.

(No one even tries to come in, anyway).

_&._

She scribbles _broken_ onto her forehead in a black Sharpie before class and thinks back the first time she sees Lucas gazing at the flow of Riley's brown curls when she sits in front of him on the first day. And then, for a split second, she stops when she recalls how she almost instantaneously takes her seat without asking the very next day, the way she promptly chooses to ignore the blaring disappointment she sees in Riley's almond eyes.

(_Billy's not the only one prone to jealousy, sweetheart_)

_&._

Secretly, she likes that he's southern, that he smiles widely and winks at her when she makes snide comments, that he actually wears a cowboy hat to the school dance and when she and Farkle dance over to him and Riley, he looks at her and grins, handing her a single rose.

She goes home and puts that rose in a small vase, right next to her bed and she doesn't even know _why_.

_&._

She's good at pretending (_years and years of backup experience, and she's an expert_), so it's really not that hard for her to pretend that she doesn't feel the overwhelming urge to do a happy dance when she finds out about Lucas and Riley breaking up from Farkle.

It's only when she finally goes to see her and Riley sobs incessantly on her shoulder that the guilt kicks in and, suddenly, it becomes a hell a lot harder to pretend.

_&._

It starts when she invites him over to her house one summer afternoon, citing that she needs help with her latest artwork and he's her last resort since both Riley _and_ Farkle are out of town.

He arrives on time – right on the dot, when the clock strikes three, he's at her door. So she brings him to her craft room and shows him the buckets of paint and newly-bought balloons that are sitting on her lawn, explaining that all they have to do is blow up the balloons and pour paint into them once they're done, before throwing them onto the blank canvass that is hung loosely on her wall. Halfway through the process, she laughs when he manages to get red paint slurred on his mouth. He raises an eyebrow, taking the opportunity to splatter blue paint across her mouth.

Eventually, they end up throwing the paint-filled balloons at _each other _instead, occasionally using the blank canvass to shield themselves against the frequent throws. He calls a time out, however, and walks up to her, pulling the canvass down.

"This is fun," he states, looking solemnly into her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but he cuts her off by pulling a hidden balloon from behind his back and crushing it promptly on top of her head, grinningly. They resume their battle for a while longer but when they both end it; she turns to stare at her iridescent canvass and flashes him with a smile that's almost as bright as the sun that's shining down on them.

_&._

The first time he kisses her is when he sees the rose he gave her in her room, sitting in a little glass vase that's placed alongside her bed.

The second time is when they're sitting on the stairs, when she's tugging on the strings of his shirt and flipping her long blonde hair and saying something along the lines of, "you know, we're not that different." And then when he instigates it, he runs his fingers through her hair (like he _always_ does and she can't even pretend that she doesn't like it), and she's laughing when he starts using Star Wars pick up lines because she always knew that he wasn't the quintessential jock and it's the first time she doesn't feel guilty for liking him.

_&._

It doesn't take her long to end up in his house on a dark, August night, when his laughter is ringing clear like bluebells and she's dressed in her oversized t-shirt and little red short shorts, tugging on the strings of his dark blue hoodie and giving him a knowing little smirk when he chooses to twirl her curls absentmindedly and begins glazing at her long, pale legs that are sprawled across his lap.

"Like what you see, cowboy?" she asks smugly, grinning.

He merely smiles at her, running his hand through her hair and placing feather-light kisses on her knuckles.

_&._

Honestly, at this point, it shouldn't even be surprising when she walks into school the next day in his blue hoodie.

Well, she's has a tendency to borrow things—she does the same with Riley's sunglasses and hairclips as well as Farkle's notes. But she knows, just knows, that this time it's different when she strolls down the hallway and walks over to his locker nonchalantly. He does a double take when he sees her.

"My jacket, huh?" he remarks, albeit smilingly. She shrugs.

"It's better than nothing," she replies coolly. And then she catches the way he chuckles at her, a little bit to himself, when she meets his gaze and lets him swing his arm around her on their way to class.

She pretends that she doesn't hear the whispers that linger along the hall.

_&._

Occasionally, she waits for him during baseball practice.

It starts as a pastime, something she does if she's bored and conveniently near wherever the baseball team is practicing. She watches him (star player – quintessential heartthrob) intently, hollering whenever he scores, and he turns to her, half-smiling, making it painfully obvious that he doesn't quite know if she's being serious or sarcastic (to be honest, it's a mixture of both). But then she starts coming regularly, sitting in her usual spot, although she is much more vocal during actual baseball games, yelling profanities at the opposing team (Riley just stares, bemused). Usually, it ends with him and Riley making jokes about her unruly behavior after the games are over and she humors them while letting him walk in the middle. But really, it's just so she can snake her hand into his without Riley noticing.

He squeezes it.

_&._

"Hey, cowboy," she calls out, across the hallway, her wide smile illuminating the dim hallways. "Are you coming?"

"Where?" he questions. "I have baseball practice in half an hour." And then he pauses. "Where are we going, anyway?" He raises a quizzical eyebrow when she breaks into a grin and then she knows, just knows, that now he manages to decipher whenever she's in her shenanigan-moods.

"I know you have practice," she replies, yanking his arm. "So hurry up."

And that's how she starts ending up with him under the bleachers every Tuesday afternoon before baseball practice and, frankly, she does not mind _at all._

. . .


End file.
